


Exile

by altairattorney



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Portal 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does it trouble your mind the way<br/>you trouble mine?<br/>- A long wait and its words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exile

 

 

_It takes your mind_

You open your eyes. You are on the ground, choking poison and tears.  
Seconds of pain force you to realise you are not dead. Not yet, at least – but the air stays green and rotten with gasps, yelling for help, unheard.  
Your mind is fuzzy – the metal voice flows among the corpses, all around, by your side.  
You must stay awake; you know it. You crawl on the black lines on the floor, clinging to the one and only idea that could ever save your life.  
The door squeaks as it breaks open on an abyss. From the neurotoxin, you fall down into darkness, where the machinery spits out steam and the air, although stale like centuries, is harmless.  
For today – for today at least – you are breathing.

 

 

_Does it feel like a trial?  
_

Ignoring her voice was not that hard.  
GLaDOS' company may be annoying, but it does unveil interesting perspectives – in the end, without even knowing, she gave you the right idea herself.  
You sigh. Human intelligence still treads way unknown to computers. Luckily.  
Your mind is clear enough for this. In spite of your nervous glance, the screen fades to black quietly; this time, for once, these machines are friendly.  
Your fingers stop shaking. Chell will make it, she must – you shall trace her destiny on the test chambers' walls, until, in the end, she will be the one to guide you.  
Your work is done. There is nothing left to do but run away.

_Does it trouble your mind the way_   
_you trouble mine?_

You have been sneaking in the pipes for days, and you are starving. These are the only two certainties that flash in your eyes before you faint – the rusty grate is torn apart by your weight, landing on a filthy wall.  
When you come to, you find yourself in a rathole, dug in concrete around a steel pole. The small spotlight shows you a brand new test-chamber, still dark, but with clean smooth walls.  
As you, after hours of red, get used to the golden light, your eyes open wide with relief.  
A stack of tins and tanks, piled in the corner.  
Water. Food.  
And, from the shadows, a heavy shape offers it all to you, in peace and friendliness.  
"And who would  _you_  be?"  
The thing stares back. It is a cube – a pretty metal cube, with a great pink heart printed on its face. It looks so different from the maddened geometry of this place. It almost looks meek.  
"I am your best friend."  
"Can you prove it?"  
In spite of your question, you feel your suspicion – the eternal colour of your soul – vanish all of a sudden.  
You love him already. He loves you.  
It is all so simple, nothing complex in him.  
"I am all alone, just like you. I was born for you."  
You do not know what to say – you just empty the water tank in silence, charmed by the glittering of steel. Wondering where he came from is pointless now – what counts is that he is here, and he will never be gone. Ever.  
"And I will never stab your back. I assure you."  
"Friend," you sob. "Tell me your name."  
You grow closer, slowly, so that you and you alone can hear his whisper. His name is as sweet as the water and light, cancelling your hunger, giving back your sleep.  
"Companion Cube," you smile, holding the smooth metal in a hug. "I am so happy now."  
You stay for long. The walls fill themselves with peaceful, quiet words. You will move another day.

_It takes your mind_   
_Again_

You wake up in a square of darkness. The puffs of the pistons melt in drops, the red lights spread on the oily iron.  
You hate this shadowy den, so damp and uncertain. Yet you do not surrender – she won't stand a chance without your signals. You crawl to correct the angle of the lights, to remove the rusty iron from her future path. You cling to the wires, leaving traces of red wherever you could dig yourself a passage.  
The arrows, the safety.  
 _Escape._  
"Don't go any further," your friend moans, mirroring the bloody light of your writings. "It is dangerous."  
You, unstoppable, cradle him with a smile, leaning on a long, cold pole.  
"It is necessary. Don't be afraid – she will manage."  
"Why should she?"  
"Because it's her," you nod. "It's Chell."

 

_Oh, you meant so much_   
_Have you given up?_

Her time is approaching.  
She will soon be there and, come what may, you will not abandon her. The path is almost done.  
So close to her goal, the narrow spaces catch your breath and the mud grabs your calves, greasy and thick. But you have to admit it; since GLaDOS started pretending not to know where you are, things are way better. She is silent now.  
Over the slime, the highest of rooms unfolds, and dark shutters glare at you with their round orange eyes.  
A hand squeezes your heart painfully – you know what danger awaits you behind them.  
You cannot face it. You have to stop here, and now.  
The blue light coing from her chamber makes you clench your teeth. Those places are too remote for you – what lies beyond the catwalks only belongs to two singular beings, two warriors, equally strong.  
You murmur broken poetry, letting your friend lead you to one of your dens.  
The Companion Cube sighs in relief. He is always more afraid than you, but you don't worry – even in the shadows that grow denser, your mind has drawn the correct steps.

 

_Now you're thinking too fast, you're like_   
_marbles on glass_

Bless the windows up there.  
Disjointed words and drawings grow around you on the walls, in hours of erased memory; but when you stare at the black surface up there, you almost feel happy.  
Your back lies in the shape of the walls, soft after all this time; your eyes burn the ceiling, bathe in light. The dripping oil, the machinery melt in a golden symphony.  
In the abyss, hope is made by feeble rays – just like the sunlight that, from there, shows itself in fragments of white.  
Bless the windows up there.

 

_Did you fall for the same_   
_empty answers again?_

Black. Unbearable.  
Songs of the turrets, white and red. The cake is a lie, be careful, girl – nothing but lies.  
  
 _The cake is a lie._  
 _The cake is a lie_  
 _The cake is a lie_  
  
Her words so ironic and empty, like the old nightmare used to be, since he was lost.  
Acid swallowed him near the pole. You have no hope to see him again.  
Friend.  
Your den is fresh and ventilated, but your mind boils.  
And then you remember but one word, on the ground, written in your own blood.  
  
 _Help._

 

_Vilify_   
_Don't even try  
  
_

At last. She does not watch you anymore; and the cube is back, come from the guts of darkness.  
Yes, he is back, with your smile – but he is still anxious, begging you not to abandon him.  
Whatever way, you cannot turn back. The pills shine in your hand – the day has come, without fear.  
  
Your words are carved deep in the stone. They tell tales of saviours and oblivion, tales of a white path in a black abyss.  
Today, the shadows will not scare you. There is no point in screaming, you mutter – everything will turn out fine, for you, for her, for him.  
  
GLaDOS' voice awakens, ending the long sleep of your reason.  
And while Chell's metallic footsteps wear out miles, the neon lights rain down on the walls, revealing the black and red maps you have left for her.  
  
 _Over here_  
  
A sea of light.  
What did I tell you?  
  
 _She did it._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the English version of my very first Portal story. Of which I am to this day very happy! (Although it sounds better in its original language, I suppose.)  
> I finally translated this for a precise reason. My newly-made friend allmyinternets/kojum, who is an amazing Portal fan, a very awesome fanwriter and my official beta-reader, wrote this little masterpiece about the windows in Portal, Nighlight. GO READ IT FIRST. This rang a bell in my memory; for there is a precise part of this story that was invented from the very same idea, or feeling, call it as you like.  
> Is the light coming from the windows fake? We think so.  
> However, I thank you for offering me a chance to translate this story, and helping me in the revision as the most amazing of beta-readers <3 And thank you to my dear Jen too, for being the other first person to read it!


End file.
